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without seeking find, and be embrac'd by a piece of tender air;

and when from a stately cedar shall be lopp'd branches which,

being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old

stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries,

Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.'

'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen

Tongue, and brain not; either both or nothing,

Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such

As sense cannot untie. Be what it is,

The action of my life is like it, which

I'll keep, if but for sympathy.

Re-enter GAOLER

GAOLER.

Come, sir, are you ready for death?

POSTHUMUS.

Over-roasted rather; ready long ago.

GAOLER.

Hanging is the word, sir; if you be ready for that, you are well cook'd.

POSTHUMUS.

So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the dish pays the shot.

GAOLER.

A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is, you

shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern bills,

which are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring of mirth.

You come in faint for want of meat, depart reeling with too much

drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and sorry that you are

paid too much; purse and brain both empty; the brain the heavier

for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of

heaviness. O, of this contradiction you shall now be quit. O, the

charity of a penny cord! It sums up thousands in a trice. You

have no true debitor and creditor but it; of what's past, is, and

to come, the discharge. Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and

counters; so the acquittance follows.

POSTHUMUS.

I am merrier to die than thou art to live.

GAOLER.

Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache.

But a

man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to

bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for look

you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.

POSTHUMUS.

Yes indeed do I, fellow.

GAOLER.

Your death has eyes in's head, then; I have not seen him so

pictur'd. You must either be directed by some that take upon them

to know, or to take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not

know, or jump the after-inquiry on your own peril. And how you

shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll never return to tell one.

POSTHUMUS.

I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct

them the way I am going, but such as wink and will not use them.

GAOLER.

What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have the

best use of eyes to see the way of blindness! I am sure hanging's

the way of winking.

Enter a MESSENGER

MESSENGER.

Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the King.

POSTHUMUS.

Thou bring'st good news: I am call'd to be made free.

GAOLER.

I'll be hang'd then.

POSTHUMUS.

Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the

dead. Exeunt POSTHUMUS and MESSENGER

GAOLER.

Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young gibbets,

I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are verier

knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman; and there be some

of them too that die against their wills; so should I, if I were

one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good. O, there

were desolation of gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my

present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in't. Exit

SCENE V. Britain. CYMBELINE'S tent

Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, LORDS,

OFFICERS, and attendants

CYMBELINE.

Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made

Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart

That the poor soldier that so richly fought,

Whose rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked breast

Stepp'd before targes of proof, cannot be found.

He shall be happy that can find him, if

Our grace can make him so.

BELARIUS.

I never saw

Such noble fury in so poor a thing;

Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought

But beggary and poor looks.

CYMBELINE.

No tidings of him?

PISANIO.

He hath been search'd among the dead and living,

But